


My Buddy Keith and I

by BriceVictoria



Category: Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:34:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7934749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriceVictoria/pseuds/BriceVictoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looked up with pale glowing eyes, finding the barrel of an assault riffle pointing between his eyes. Why did it matter anymore? The nightmares were getting worse and he was tired of hurting. He'd lost all hope of finding the man with the hat from his dreams. He was done fighting and he was done with living, if one could even call it that... That was, until he heard a voice... The voice of the man from his dreams...</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Buddy Keith and I

**Author's Note:**

> Only my third L4D story. My other two are on fanfictionnet, but they were from quite a few years ago and they sucked. Plus, this isn't a smut story and the first time I've actually posted one without smut. I'm going to try to make it more meaningful and maybe turn it into a series since I'm not too great at writing chapters and getting them to flow together. Please enjoy and feel free to leave a comment!

It was cold and wet as the Hunter slunk through the streets, trying to avoid the common infected and the survivors. His hoodie was soaked completely through and he was trembling. Normal infected couldn't feel the cold, but he wasn't really normal was he? No, he was different. He could still feel warmth and cold, he had emotions, dreams and nightmares. He was nearly starving, but still couldn't bring himself to kill the people running through, trying to get to safety and trying the leave the town. He'd been looking for a certain person, a man to be exact. A man with an old trucking hat. You see, his dreams consisted of that man, more often than not the man was bellow him or next to him in a bed, his bottle green eyes twinkling as he would laugh at some stupid joke. His chestnut brown hair tussled from sleep and from his hat, once or twice it was slicked to the sides while an older woman would fuss over him. Her eyes were the same shade of green as she'd look over the two boys, laughing at them or cooking dinner for them, but they never had that same twinkle. Whenever she's laugh, it wouldn't reach her eyes. They'd always looked distant, as if she wasn't all there.

That didn't matter now, though. For all he knew, both the man and older woman were dead, killed by the undead hordes. He shook himself and continued on his way, looking for food the survivors might have dropped or the molded leftovers from the people who had fled when the virus first started spreading. He'd passed a few small groups of common zombies and one or two special ones, but none of them gave him any notice. He was glad of the solitude. It gave him time to think and allowed him to piece those thoughts together, though none of them seemed to really fit. Like trying to piece together a puzzle by trying to force the wrong pieces together. He got nowhere and got more agitated the harder he tried. He came to a stop by an opened red barred door, a room where the survivors rested and resupplied before heading back out into the hordes. The scent of unspoiled food wafted from the room, causing his stomach to grumble. He snuffed around the room a little before going for the boxes of food, finding some that were wrapped and in boxes, rather than canned. He hated those because while the survivors were able to use some kind of opener, he was unable to use it. He'd thrown more than a couple of cans in a fit of hunger induced rage, only to result in the cans simply denting. He had gotten one to bust open, but it had unfortunately splattered in the bathroom. What? He may be a Hunter, but he wasn't about to eat off the bathroom floor. Who knew what those survivors did in there or spilled on the floors?

Anyway, back to the food. The little bars with nuts wrapped in plastic were his favorite, especially when they had little dried fruits in them. Well, second favorite. This particular Hunter happened to have a large sweet tooth and devoured anything with chocolate or caramel within seconds of finding it. And the humans thought that Witches liked sweets and sugar? Unfortunately this room only had a few of those bars, none of which had the little fruits to the Hunter's disappointment. He grabbed a few other food items and brought them over to a mattress where there were a few blankets strewn about. He made them into a nest of sorts, curling up in the middle and gnawing on one of the bars. He heard the distant shouts of a Tank, assuming that they're pretty easy to anger, he ignored it. After he finished off his food, he curled into a tight ball, feeling his eyes start to slowly drift close.

He found himself back in a house that he'd dreamed of plenty of other times. None of those dreams turned out to be good and this one was no different. It started off just fine, him and a younger version of the trucker hat man laying in a bed in nothing but jeans and sweats, his hand wrapped up in an ace bandage. The man was talking distinctly about how lucky he was that he hadn't lost his fingers to frostbite, but one of these days his antics were going to get him killed. He enjoyed listening to the thick country accent and feeling the rough sandpaper-like stubble on the other man's face against his cheek. He felt the other man's lips brush against his softly and lovingly, words being murmured against his face as the little kisses were peppered over the fair skin. The sweet moment was broken by a man storming in, a bottle of beer in one hand, while his other was holding a shotgun. The green-eyed man jumped up with eyes wide in shock as the older male yelled at them, lumbering over, missing the green-eyed boy as he darted past him, leaving him confused on the bed. He'd looked up at the man, obviously his father, as he was suddenly upon him, the shotgun replaced with a belt as it came down, hitting him in various places as he wailed in pain and tried to escape. He felt the bite of leather and metal strike the small of his back, no doubt leaving a welt, as the man screamed about 'abominations' and 'queers'. The scene changed as the belt came down again, finding himself in a corner as the man that was just beating him laying on the ground with a blood surrounding him, the trucker hat man standing over them with a shotgun in his hands, his body trembling as their eyes locked, green boring into amber and vice versa. The other had stumbled over the body to get to him, hands soft against his wounds and his voice soft as he repeated the same thing over and over.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do. He was going to kill you." The voice had choked, almost like the other was pleading. Why would he be angry? The older man had been holding him against the wall by the throat. He'd been beating him hours before. What was there to be angry about? Was he supposed to be mad at the other? Was it wrong that he'd felt a faint flash of relief before the numb had completely taken over?

The Hunter was startled awake by a Tank that sounded closer than it the one last night, a group of survivors running in and barring the door. He looked up with pale glowing eyes, finding the barrel of an assault rifle pointing between his eyes. Why did it matter anymore? The nightmares were getting worse and he was tired of hurting. He'd lost all hope of finding the man with the hat from his dreams. He was done fighting and he was done with living, if one could even call it that... That was, until he heard a voice... The voice of the man from his dreams... His eyes snapped to the man, finding familiar green eyes and a trucker hat that he'd only dreamed of before. The man over him said something back, but his focus was on the man walking slowly over to him, his voice soft and a hand held out as if approaching a spooked cat. The Hunter got up slowly, sitting back on his haunches so he could get a better look at the man. Yes, this _was_ him. He was _real_. The hand gently scraped against his scalp, through greasy blond hair, to gently lower the hood, a wide smile appearing on the handsome face, showing pearl white teeth.

"Keith. You're okay." _Keith_ , his name was Keith. It sounded like honey as it smoothly rolled off the other's tongue. "Do you remember me? It's Ellis." The memories came rushing back, filling in the gaps. He'd been lovers with Ellis and his father had disapproved strongly to the point he'd tried to kill them both. His mother had died long before and Ellis's father was nowhere to be found. Ellis's mother was a good mom and was a Christian, a real Christian that left the judging to God and loved everyone with her whole heart, even those who didn't deserve it. She baked almost every day and had even allowed Keith to move in after his father was killed. The police had let him and Ellis go, knowing how aggressive his father was and how worse it was when he was drunk. The only problem Ellis's mother had with them was that they were 'two growing boys' and ate twice as much as normal boys their age, but laughed afterwards.

Ellis smiled as Keith's eyes focused back on him, the glow dying and realization hitting him. He'd been looking for Ellis when the virus hit. Ellis's mother had been on one of the first flights out of town, but Keith stayed home where Ellis could find him. He'd had plenty of ammo and guns, but they were no match when a Tank had blundered in, destroying everything in it's path. He remembered being thrown against a wall and then nothing. He'd probably snapped his neck and spine upon contact, considering his back and neck still ached in the rain. He suddenly found himself in a pair of crushing arms, his face against Ellis's neck, the smell of car oil and gunpowder invading his smell. He allowed his arms to reach around and pull the other closer to him, burrowing himself further against him. A sigh escaping his lips, "Ellis..."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to leave a kudos and comment!
> 
> ~ BriceVictoria ~


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